The lives of two butlers
by Blood Thirsty Angle
Summary: Drabbles of the lives of Charles Grey and Charles Phipps as they live their day to day lives serving Queen Victoria. Of course, their lives are anything but dull. (Might continue this; depends on feedback). Rating subjected to change as story goes on.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note:** Yeah, so I recently got back into Kuroshitsuji and remembered how much I loved it. I love Double Charles and have always wanted to write something for them. I just watched Book of Circus and Book of Murder yesterday and I'm so thrilled they finally animated John and Double Charles. Pity they didn't follow the manga more in the anime, but hey, the manga is still going. I know, I'm a little late watching Book of Circus and Murder, but when it came out, I was too lazy to watch it. Shame on me!_

 _So, I may continue this or not. I love Grey and Phipps, (wish they were around more in the manga :/), and there is a lack of Phipps and Grey fanfiction in general. So I take it upon myself to change that._

 _ **Warnings:** Eh, none_

 _ **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except for a laptop and a chubby gray cat._

* * *

The over cast was cloudy today, the sky a dark and stormy gray. The wind had a bit of a nip to it, though that was not uncommon for this time of the year. Thunder rumbled occasionally; a dark and ominous sound that shook the windows of Buckingham palace. Extra light had to be lit due to the darkness of the sky, but no one was really focused on the rain. No, today was a special day. Today was the departure of someone, or rather something, precious.

Today was the burial of Cecily the chicken.

Now to Grey, a burial for a damn chicken had to be the only idiotic thing Phipps had ever insisted on doing. This was so out of character for the ever reserved and sensible man! Usually he remained apathetic about everything, ranging from the Queen talking to her Albert puppet to him going down to the kitchen at two in the morning for a snack. Nothing fazed this man except for one thing: Cute, fuzzy, animals.

He could probably stick him in a petting zoo for days and the man would be completely happy. That brought a smirk to his lips, but quickly hid it when Phipps' gaze met his. Why he even had to be at this stupid event, he had no idea. He didn't even like the damn thing. She would peck him every time he was trying to do something and if he even dared try to spare with Phipps, she'd attack him in a storm of feathers and claws.

No, he was not going to miss this damn creature at all.

It was a closed casket funeral. Really, it was just a simple black box with a cross over it. Phipps wasn't a real religious man himself, but said that Cecily deserved one of the highest spots in heaven. Ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous. It almost made him want to laugh at how stupid his partner sounded, but he refrained from doing so. While mocking people was fun and all, now was not the time. Despite what some might think, he knew when it was time to keep silent.

So, with a begrudging heart, he stood out in the cold outdoors with an umbrella in his hands. The air was heavy with rain, making it positively ghastly. It wouldn't be long before it started to downpour and quite frankly, he didn't want to get wet. Unfortunately, things were not looking good for him.

"She was a good chicken," Queen Victoria reassured the tall and serious butler, a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. "One of the finest hens I've ever seen in my entire life. If you want, I can get Ms. Hopkins to sew you a puppet of her. She might keep you company."

To an outsider, one might think she was joking or mocking him cruelly, but they knew she was quite serious. John carried her puppet around everywhere she went, though Grey wouldn't deny that when he made Albert talk, it was kind of creepy. Almost as creepy as dark cellars and ghosts, but on a completely different level.

"She hatched in our ladle during Easter," Phipps began in an apathetic voice that had a twinge of sorrow to it. "She liked to sleep on my windowsill and bathe in the sunlight. She hated going outside in the rain. Too bad it's raining right now."

"You won't hurt the kitty that killed her, will you?"

Phipps' face contorted in a mixture of anger and sorrow. "No," he practically ground out. "It would displease you, your majesty."

She shook her head, patting his arm again gently as a few droplets of rain began to fall from the sky. John brought the mouthpiece of a bag pipe to his lips as two other servants began to lower her body to the ground. Sometime during the night, Phipps had made a little headstone for his beloved chicken, though Grey wasn't sure how he did it so quickly. Must be those unnaturally fast sewing abilities of his.

He didn't even know John knew how to play the bagpipes. Wasn't that a Scottish thing? Oh well, who really cared at this point. As long as no one started to sing, he would be fine. Once the damn bloody chicken was placed in the ground and covered, the few people that attended the ceremony left. The Queen and John included.

"Is it over yet?" he asked, not caring if that was insensitive. Which, he knew it was. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

Phipps didn't say anything at first; just continuing to stare at Cecily's grave. At first, he was worried that the taller and broader man would start crying. What happened next completely shocked him.

"Grey," Phipps started in a low voice. "Would you say a few words?"

Why did he have to get into these situations? Surely Phipps knew that he hated Cecily. He was glad to see her gone! Phipps was doing this to punish him in his own twisted and sadistic way. Of course, if he refused, it would sour their relationship and make him look like a complete ass to everyone else. Even Victoria would be displeased. "Fine," he sighed, rolling his eyes a little. "I'll say something."

Phipps offered a brief hint of a smile. "Thank you."

He stared at the grave, cursing the damn hen to the pits of hell. "Cecily, you were a…fine chicken," Oh God, this made him want to puke. Phipps would pay for this! "We only knew you for a few short months, but you certainly…touched our lives. You ate well, clearly. And pecked the ground every day the way chickens do. You probably would have laid a few eggs too and have more little Cecily's running around."

Phipps also cracked a tiny smile.

"You were a proud chicken; very vain about your feathers. You were enraged when I poured water on you one day and only ceased squawking when Phipps came and comforted you. You will be missed, mostly by Phipps, I assure you."

Phipps shot him a look, but otherwise sighed. "Thank you, Grey," he turned away from the graveyard. "I know you held strong dislike towards her."

Well. That was putting it mildly. He grinned innocently. "It doesn't matter now, she's gone," he said logically, almost enthusiastically. "Though how you could love anything from the _Phantomhive_ estate, I just can't comphrened."

Phipps just shook his head. "If you don't say anything unsavory about her, I'll make you cakes and other sweets for a whole year."

Well, he certainly couldn't pass that up. Maybe the stupid chicken's death proved to be useful to him after all. "Any kind of sweets I want?" he asked, sweet smile now becoming something more malicious. "And when I want?"

Phipps made a face, but otherwise nodded. "Yes."

He practically danced his way back into the palace, a warm sense of satisfaction now filling his entire being. Phipps would probably come to regret that promise, but there was no backing out of it now. He could almost taste the different kinds of cakes and other treats on his tongue. His stomach rumbled, and he had an intense craving for chocolate cake.

"Ohh Phipps!" he called back towards the taller man. "I'm hungry; make me some cake!"

It would probably be best for Phipps not to know that it was he who unleashed the cat onto the chicken. After all, what Phipps didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

* * *

 **I honestly don't remember what Phipps' chicken's name was or even if it had a name. Oh well. I found on a Tumblr post that it was Cecily, so the name just stuck. So it's now Cecily the chicken. Shame on you Grey!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note:** So I read a story on here called "Mission (Im)Possible: Annoying Charles Grey by Emmanuel Parker. The ideas are totally hers, I just wrote them out into a little chapter. Hope you enjoy!  
_

 _ **Warnings:** None_

 _ **Disclaimer:** Me? Own Kuroshitsuji? When that happens, that will be the day pigs fly._

* * *

 _Parry...Parry…Lunge…Parry…Parry…Flick!_

Grey smiled triumphantly as his opponent was knocked to the ground, holding their shoulder in agony. Phipps and John helped the man up, taking him to the medical wing while he relished in victory. This was the tenth man he'd fought today and needless to say, he'd won all ten matches. It kept him in shape and made his skills even sharper, so the Queen would never be in danger while he was around.

Yes, things in the Queen's palace were quite dandy. Until a hoarse whisper sounded in his ear. "Midget."

His eye involuntarily twitched. "Who said that?" he snapped, whirling around to see who it was. To his surprise, there was no one there. He immediately brought his sword out menacingly, eyes like a hawk as he looked around the room. "You better come out, or I'll skin you!"

"Who's he talking too?" one of the guards whispered to his friend.

"I have no idea. There's no one there."

"I always knew he was crazy."

His eye twitched again, but he ignored them. He huffed, leaving the practice room to go find polish for his sword. It was covered in blood now, and that would be unsightly for the Queen to see, so he went about to go fix it.

"Midget."

"I swear to God," he hissed; turning around, ready to stab whoever was there. "You better show yourself right now or-"

Suddenly, an imaginary girl was standing in front of him, wearing an "I love Cecily the chicken," t-shirt. This must be a punishment from God or something. She smiled sweetly. "I'm your imaginary friend," she greeted. "We're going to have an interesting day."

"Tch," he scoffed, making his way to grab the sword polish. "Go away. I'm busy."

She giggled and disappeared, the sound sending a small chill down his spine. It was only eight in the morning; the day had barely even started. If God was punishing him for killing Phipps' chicken, he might as well be buried now. He narrowed his eyes. No, he was Charles Grey. Charles fucking Grey. Nothing was going to scare him!

He gave his sword a quick polish, returning to the training room where Phipps was waiting. Besides Elizabeth Midford, the one other person who was on his skill level was Charles Phipps. Currently, the tall man was looking a robin that was now perched on the window, gazing at it with such adoration. He let out a smirk, hoping the cat would kill the bird too. "Êtes-vous prêts?" he asked, the French language rolling smoothly off his tongue.

Phipps just stared at him, face ranging from bewilderment to impassive. "Are you serious, Grey?" he asked in an unimpressed tone. "You're going to use that to fight? Is today April Fools?"

"What?" he looked down, jaw dropping in shock as he realized his sword had been replaced with….with… "A STICK?" he exclaimed, anger building onto his face. "Someone replaced my sword with a stick?"

Phipps sighed, leaving the arena. "Come back when you're done playing games. Then I'll fight you."

"Phipps!"

The imaginary girl appeared again, laughing her head off. He glared spitefully at her. "You did this!" he snarled. "I'm going to impale you!"

She stuck her tongue out. "No you won't!"

She disappeared, running out of the room. Actually, more like skipping, but he didn't care. He chased after her, ready to impale her on his sword and have that whole stick incident behind him. She ran into a darkened room and he smirked. There was no escape now.

He ran into it, stomach dropping when he heard the outside click. He grabbed the door knob, trying to open it. "PHIPPS!" he called out. "JOHN! LET ME OUT!"

"There's no escape!" the imaginary girl laughed. "Now, there's something I want to show you."

He narrowed his gray eyes suspiciously. "What?"

A TV had been set up, the opening credits rolling. "What is this?" he asked, sitting down. "Fifty shades of….Grey?"

The girl nodded dutifully. "Yup."

For about two hours and five minutes, he sat and watched the incredibly long, boring, sex driven movie. God, this was so bad he wanted to hurl. "This cannot be real!" he protested. "This movie is terrible! Whose idea was this?"

The girl just waved a book in his face. "Oh, it's real alright. It's an entire series."

His face paled. "An entire….series?"

"Oh yes. Isn't this fun?"

"No! Let me out!"

She sighed, popping the disk out of the player and putting a new film in. Intrigued, he watched the Credits appear. An hour into the film, he was half tempted to start biting his nails. Holy Father in Heaven, this was scary! It only made him hate dark places even more!

"This is based on a true story," the girl sighed, watching the movie unfazed. "Did you know that?"

"Really?" If Fifty shades were real, could this be true too. "Does the main character die?"

"Find out."

When it was finally done, he promised to never make fun of anyone scared of the dark again. He was inwardly shaking by the time he got out of there. The girl smile sympathetically. "I know what will make you feel better!" she started enthusiastically."

"Food?"

"The Zoo!"

In less than ten seconds, she teleported them to the zoo. What the hell was this girl? She could not be human! Last time he checked, he was pretty sure he grew out of his imaginary friend phase. Was he secretly in hell? Was this a punishment from up high?

 _Hisssssss_

He immediately froze, backing straightening and the hairs on his arms, legs, and the rest of his body rising. More hissing surrounded him, yellow eyes glaring at him evilly in the dark. Since when did the Queen add a…snake pit to the royal zoo? Didn't she know how terrifying these things were? He shivered, trying to find his way around the darkened room, but there was only a dim light towards the far end.

He was so close to freedom! So close! When he finally found his way out, he fell on his knees, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and hide. If there as anything that could take him down, it was snakes.

Then, it happened.

Millions of snakes came raining from the sky, ranging from bright purples to violent reds. He screamed, earning a few strange looks from passer buyers. The snakes were everywhere! In his clothes, on his shoulders! They would not stop! "HELP!" he called out. "They're going to bite me! AHHHHH!"

A few people snickered, though he didn't understand why until a squeak came from one of the snakes. He froze, immediate dread rising in his chest as he looked down. Plastic snakes. Fake, plastic snakes that a dog could chew up. Never before in his life had he been embarrassed. The imaginary girl snickered; a weird device in her hand that he knew could not be a good thing. "That was hilarious!" she laughed, falling to her knees. "And now everyone will be able to see when I upload it."

He paled. "Don't. You. Dare!" he ground out, marching towards her. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

He was half way towards her when he found himself teleported back into the palace. The kitchen was strangely empty, minus Phipps who was stirring something in a pot. "Oh, you're back. I was wondering where you went," the man pulled out a chocolate bars. And not just any chocolate bar, a _Funtom_ chocolate bar. "Phipps," he snarled. "Where did you get that?"

The white haired man looked at the sweet. "Oh, someone raided the pantry and replaced all our food supplies with Funtom company foods. The Queen is very happy. You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you?"

He was absolutely flabbergasted. "I HATE FUNTOM!" he screeched. "WHY WOULD I DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?"

Phipps just sighed. "Here, have some fondue. It will make you feel better."

He could just hear the imaginary girl snicker at him and he spotted her sitting on the counter, smiling evilly. He dipped a cookie into the chocolate, glaring at her. She was up to something. He just knew it!

Then, after twenty cookies, his stomach started to feel funny. He hurried to the lavatory, using the restroom quickly as his bowls emptied themselves. After washing his hands and leaving, he was about to go spar with Phipps when it happened again! His lower body made a funny noise and he pushed past several men to get to it.

Unfortunately, this happened two times again. That little bitch put something in his food! He just knew it.

When it was finally done, and he was quite sure he didn't have to use the lavatory again, he quietly stalked down the halls. When he got to his room, a weird device was sitting there. "This is a computer," the girl appeared, munching on a Funtom sucker. "It can be used to do all sorts of things, let me show you."

She didn't give him much of a choice and forced him to sit down. She showed him the basic ways of using it, showing him where to go when to find things. She then pulled up a site called " ."

"What's this fanfiction?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "It doesn't have snakes in it, does it?"

"No! Well, maybe. Depends on what you're looking up. Let me show you."

She then pulled up his name and then Phipps' name. "Read this," she clicked on a story title, and he peered towards it. "You'll enjoy it."

Five minutes later, a scream could be heard throughout the palace. He clicked the back button, face violently red after what he just red. "Phipps can never know about this!" he blanched at what the other man's reaction would be. "Who wrote this?"

"People who love you so much!" she chirped, before leaning forward to click off Phipps' name and replace it with Undertaker. "This is even better."

It took only one minute for him to read the story before slamming the computer screen down and making his way to the bathroom for the fifth time that day! He hurled into the toilet, remembering seeing the creepy man at the cemetery once. The girl sighed sadly. "You didn't like it?"

"Hell no!"

"Aw, that's too bad. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"What?" he began begrudgingly. "If it's about petting a snake or something forget it!"

"No," she giggled. "I just want to know why you're still single."

He stood up, washing his mouth out and exited out of the bathroom. "I'm not answering that!" he snapped. "Leave me alone!"

"I knew it!"

He paused, turning to face her sharply. "Knew what?"

"YOU'RE TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH PHIPPS!"

By God, he wanted to strangle her so bad! "I am not!" he denied, face turning red. "I am not in love with Phipps!"

"Oh my gosh, I totally knew it! That is like so cute! When will you ask him out? You should totally ask him out. Get him some pretty flowers! And a kitten too! Who doesn't like kittens? Phipps loves cute things! Ohhh! I just can't believe this!"

She continued on, stalking him down the hall as he went to his room. Phipps was helping a maid carry something and suddenly, he looked confused. "Grey, who is this girl following you?"

"Oh, now you see her!" he placed his hands on his hips angrily. "She's been following me all day; torturing me with bad movies, snakes, and laxatives."

"Oh, so you're the one who made the lavatory smell."

He flushed pink. "Just kill her already."

The girl just marched over to Phipps. "Hey, I have a question for you two," the two of them looked at her oddly. She just smiled a smile that made him want to cut her throat. "Who's the man in your relationship?"

Phipps stared at her before deadpanning and walking away. Grey snarled, reaching out to strangle her when she suddenly frowned. "No, it can't be."

"What now?"

"I see it now. Everything is so clear. You look like a girl for this very reason."

"I do not!"

"It's just so plain to see…"

"WHAT?"

"You're in love with Sebastian!"

He promptly fainted after that.

* * *

"Grey…wakey wakey!"

He firmly kept his eyes closed, refusing to get up. Two seconds later, a finger poked his cheek. "Come on, wake up!"

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke!

He finally opened his eyes, glaring up at her with the utmost hatred when he suddenly felt different. His clothes didn't rustle this much and they certainly didn't feel heavy. Looking down, he shrieked when he realized his clothes were complete gone! In their place, was a large pink and frilly dress! Looking around, he realized all the clothes in his closet were replaced by copies of the bright pink frilly dressed.

The girl leaned forward, snapping a picture of him. "You're a very pretty lady," she giggled. "Don't you feel flattered now?"

He suddenly felt it! His head felt a lot lighter than it had before and he instantly touched, only to find his long white blonde hair was gone! NO! This could not be happening. "THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!" he screamed, running around his room. "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY HAIR?"

"Oh, I figured it was too long, so I cut it."

The door flew open and Phipps rushed in, sword ready to attack. "I heard screaming," he stated, as if this weren't obvious enough. He froze, staring at him with a shocked expression. "Grey…what happened to you?"

He pointed a shaky finger towards her. "She did it!" he hissed. "Kill her! Kill her now, Phipps!"

"Wait!" she pleaded. "I just sent that photo to Viscount Druitt! There's a love note and everything!"

Phipps just looked around the room, eyeing the walls with a quirked eyebrow. "Grey, I did not know you thought Ciel and Sebastian would be a couple."

"Huh?"

He then looked to where Phipps was staring at, eyes widening at the site of Sebastian and Ciel posters all around his room. Seeing the young Earl's bratty face made him want to draw blood. Preferably from the terrorist standing near him. Phipps, as if reading his mind stepped towards her. Holding her arms in place, she looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?" she asked in confusion.

Those were her last words before Grey's sword went through her chest.

* * *

 **Well, my mind has been completely lost in the gutter. Please excuse me while I go find it. In the meant time, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note:** So this chapter is basically how they met. Kind of fluffy, though it kind of has an air of mystery. I also found out that Grey and Phipps are both 24 years old. Those who got the Book of Circus dvd set got a little booklet that said so. All I can say is, "The more you know."_

 _ **Warnings:** None_

 _ **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but original characters._

* * *

This had gotten out of hand.

Phipps watched from the corner of his eye as Grey eyed the pastry he was making, gray eyes sharp and observant as he looked for an opening to sneak some of the dough and not get caught. He let out a sigh, but continued to stir the cream in the bowl. Somethings never changed.

"Is it done yet?" Grey slumped in his seat, his teacup now empty. "I'm hungry."

From the windowsill, Cecily cooed as the late afternoon sun hit her feathers. "Does it look done?" he asked in a monotonous tone. "Besides, didn't you just eat six petit fours the other cook left out?"

"Maybe?" he licked his lips at the thought of them. "What's your point?"

"And you're still hungry?"

"Well of course!"

He half raised his eyes to the ceiling, adding cream into the pastry dough. Cream puffs weren't especially hard to make. At least, not to him. Baking, and cooking in general, came naturally to him. However, he didn't particularly want to think of the reasons why. He was surprised; waking up this morning to find Cecily had laid eggs right on the pillow next to him. He was afraid at first that they might be fertile, but then realized Cecily never left his sight. So, they now had fresh eggs.

"Oh look!" Grey shot up from his seat, heading towards the window near one of the counters. "It's snowing!"

He glanced over at his partner, realizing that there were indeed little snowflakes falling from the sky. "It's only late February," he sighed. "Of course there might be a little bit more snow."

"Enough to build a snowman?"

He joined him at the window, looking at the falling snow long enough before shaking his head. "No," he answered slowly, not even batting an eyelash. "And why would you want to build a snowman? The last time you built one was when you were eight."

Grey just made a face. "Spoil sport."

He stepped away from the shorter man, setting the pastries in the oven and watched as they slowly began to rise. Grey continued to yammer on about the snow that was now falling even harder. For a moment, he slightly doubted that it might be enough. He was a man after all, not a weather God that those Paganism people believed in.

John arrived into the kitchen, taking a seat in one of the white velvet chairs. Phipps immediately moved forward, pouring tea into the fancy blue and white china cup. The other man just nodded thanks, sipping the warm tea carefully. To his amusement, Grey was still staring at the snow, though a rare look of serene nostalgia graced his features.

"Hey Phipps," he began casually, leaning against the counter. "Do you remember the weather when we first met?"

"Of course not," he replied impassively. What a ridiculous question. Why would he remember something more trivial? Though the more he thought about it, he always had been able to push unnecessary facts out of his mind. Not that meeting Grey was forgettable, but why on earth would he remember the weather? "Why would I remember something like that?" he asked, though he was now more focused on checking on the cream puffs.

"It was snowing!" Grey pouted. He actually pouted, although he wasn't entirely shocked by it. "Don't tell me you're going senile already." He scoffed, eyes drifting over to the leftover cream in the bowl.

Phipps sighed, instinctively moving the bowl away and Grey dashed forward to get it. "You can have the cream when the cream puffs are done," he stated simply, placing the bowl in the sink to wash it. "You'll start getting chubby if you keep eating like you do now.

Even as Grey began sputtering in denial about becoming chubby, Phipps took that moment to allow himself a brief moment to flash back on the day he first met Charles Grey, about sixteen years ago…

* * *

"Charles, don't fidget in your seat. Sit still and behave yourself."

A young Charles Phipps, only five months away from turning nine years old, immediately stopped twitching in his seat. Under the scrutinizing gaze of his grandfather, he gulped silently and bowed his head in respect. "Yes, Grandfather," he said in a soft, respectful tone. "I'm sorry."

The old man's gaze softened, and he adjusted his top hat a little so that it wouldn't fall off. Outside, the wind blew soft flakes of snow to the ground, dusting the street like powdered sugar on gingerbread cookies. Inside the carriage, it was warm compared to the bitter cold of the outside world. He didn't know how his grandfather had gotten time off protecting the queen, but he said it was very important that they visit a friend of his.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his child-like voice still soft and quiet. "Mother didn't want me to come out today."

He normally didn't ask questions; for he knew most of the time he would never get answers. His grandfather let out a sigh, rolling his sea foam blue eyes. "Of course she wouldn't; being the paranoid woman she is," he didn't know what paranoid meant, so he made a mental note to look it up later. "Anyway, we're going to my partner's home. You remember Earl Charles Grey at the Christmas party?"

He nodded dutifully, his face set in an apathetic tone. "He has white hair, like father did."

For a moment, his grandfather's eyes betrayed him. A flicker of sadness at the mention of his late son always appeared when his name was mentioned. Charles didn't really understand it, but how could he? His father died when he wasn't even a year old. How did one feel sad over someone they never met?

"He has a son," his grandfather cleared his throat, eyes retreating back to being cold and calculating. "A little boy your age. You will get along with him, understand?"

"Yes, Grandfather," he replied with hesitation, without room for argument. "Can I ask what his name is?"

"Charles Grey, after his father. Actually, all the oldest men in their families are named Charles. Just like ours," his grandfather cracked a tiny smile at that, firm calloused hands tracing the sword he wore on his belt. "And as I just said before, you will get along with him. It is essential that you do."

"Yes, Grandfather."

"And it wouldn't hurt you to smile a little," the older man continued, softening his tone for the briefest moment. "People will find you unapproachable if you don't."

He blinked. "What's there to smile about?" he asked very seriously. "Mother never smiles."

"Well your mother is complicated and another story altogether. You won't understand till you're older," his grandfather glanced out the window. "Now, my partner and I will be attending business in the library. Lady Grey will look after you, understood?"

"Yes."

The carriage stopped, the coachman getting off to open the door and help them out. He shivered, breath coming out in tiny puffs that he could see very clearly. A butler stood waiting for them outside the grand house, a reserved; polite smile on his face. "Welcome Earl Phipps," the man bowed slightly. "Earl Grey will be receiving you in the library."

He followed his grandfather into the house, only to be stopped once inside the grand foyer. Paintings adorned the marble walls, swords hanging everywhere, much like his home. A woman, dressed in a dark green dress came to greet him; her dark hair curled and pulled into a fancy hairstyle. Her gray eyes were kind, and as she took him by the hand, he didn't feel nervous. "You must be Charles Phipps," she stated kindly. "I'm Lady Grey. Welcome to your home. My little boy is waiting for you. He is feeling a bit under the weather, I'm afraid, so play gently."

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, aren't you a gentlemen? Maybe my precious boy could take a few pointers from you."

He followed her into a tearoom, where a boy with shaggy chin length silver hair sat in a chair, munching on a biscuit. When his eyes met his, a sort of smile grew on his lips, making him look like a little imp. "You're a lot taller than they said you would be," he said rather bluntly. "That's not fair!"

The boy's mother sighed, running a hand through her son's hair. "Charles, that is no way to greet our guest. Introduce yourself properly," her smile turned a little harder. "Now."

The boy huffed, sticking out his right hand. "I'm Charles Grey. It's nice to meet you."

He took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Charles Phipps. It's nice to meet you too."

Lady Grey clapped her hands, placing her hands on the other boy's shoulders. "Well, I need to go entertain the ladies of my sewing party. You boys play nice, alright? And Charlie, if you go outside there will be punishment."

He watched in shock as the shorter boy stuck his tongue out at his mother's retreating form. He almost gasped at how disrespectful it was, but the younger boy soon tugged on his hand. "Come on," he whispered. "We can sneak out through the kitchens."

"Your mother said you can't go out!"

"What, are you a chicken?" Charles Grey sneered, and for a moment, he actually felt intimidated by him. "Are you going to tattle on me? Where's your sense of adventure!"

Speechless, he let the shorter boy drag him quietly down the hall, past the stairs and into the kitchens. The cook was busy issuing orders to the other servants, so he didn't notice the two boys sneak out into the cold winter air. Charles Grey laughed, the snowflakes catching on his eye lashes. "I love winter!" he gathered some snow in his bare hands, tossing it in the air. "There's so much to do!"

"Yeah," he agreed softly, kicking some snow with his foot. "I suppose."

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

He blinked, sneezing a little as some snow caught in his nose. "How do you make one?" he asked curiously. "Mother never lets me go outside in the winter."

Grey's jaw dropped, and he dramatically placed his hands on his hips. "How have you never made one? Every kid has to make one at some point their life! Come on, I'll show you how!"

For the next fifteen minutes, despite the freezing cold, they gathered the sticky, cold snow in their hands and molded into three different balls. Grey was rather cheerful about t, though five minutes into it, he started coughing. Phipps began to feel a little guilty, now remembering he didn't have a coat on or any sort of material to keep him warm. Removing the scarf from around his neck, he placed it over the other boy.

"You'll get sicker," he stated. "I don't want you to get sick."

Grey just stared at him for a few seconds, eyes widening at the simple act. Then he grinned, placing a hand on his arm. "You're not so bad of a guy; I think I can work with you," he obviously noticed his blush and the tiny smile that was growing, and gave a little smirk. "And you have a cute smile."

He froze up, blush darkening even further. No one had ever complimented him like that before; not even his mother. She would just tell him he looked like his father and that was it. Yet this boy, this short, mischievous boy had paid him a compliment; had taken an interest in him. To be honest, and he would never admit this out loud, but it made him feel special. Like a little fire had been lit in his chest and spread throughout his whole body.

"CHARLES JAMES RICHARD WARREN GREY!"

A look of absolute fear replaced the happy look on Grey's face. Lady Grey stormed towards them, upset and angry at her son for disobeying her. She instantly placed a hand on his forehead, smoothing back his bangs. "Your fever has gone up!" she fretted, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, scooping him up into her arms carefully. "You're going to bed, young man. And don't even think of disobeying me again!"

"Yes Momma," he said in the sweetest voice possible.

Phipps followed them inside, guilt tearing him apart on the inside. He sat in Grey's room quietly, watching as the young boy changed into his sleeping gown. His mother tucked him under the covers, scolding him gently about making himself sicker before kissing his forehead. He averted his eyes, watching the strange scene before him. His own mother never treated him with affection. Never before in his life had he received a hug from her. Watching Grey and his mother, he felt so odd; like he was in a foreign country.

"Charles."

He instantly returned to attention, standing up to face the Lady Grey. She gazed at him gently, glancing over at her son. "He doesn't get to play with other children much," she sighed sadly. "His father insists are making him stronger since he is afraid that because he is so small, he'll be weak. I just want to say thank you for spending time with him."

He nodded. "Can I stay and watch over him? I didn't stop him from going outside when I should have. Then he wouldn't have become so sick."

She placed a delicate hand on his head. "He would have snuck out either way. I have been raising him for eight years, you know," she smiled softly, fondly almost. "I would like you two to remain friends. He doesn't have very many. Not very many real friends, anyway."

"I'd like to stay friends."

"Will you look after him?" she turned serious, gray eyes boring him down. "He gets into trouble so much. Someone like you would be good for him. It would even him out; let him know when he goes too far. Could you look after him when I can't?"

"I will," he nodded. "I'll look after him. I promise."

He stayed with the younger Grey, eventually falling asleep while looking after him. Apparently his grandfather and the Earl Grey had to leave for some business, so Lady Grey allowed him to stay. He never even left the boy's side, even when the boy woke up complaining about being itchy.

Unfortunately, Phipps too began to feel ill and the next day, he too had the same spots as Grey. Even while they were itchy and sick, it gave them all the more time to be kids.

* * *

 _DING!_

He jumped out of his thoughts, the sound of the small timer he had set going off. He took out the cream puffs, eyeing Grey the whole time while doing so. Grey leaned over, smelling them with great pride. "These smell better than that Phantomhive butler's," he sneered, grabbing one before Phipps could stop him. "You make the best food in the world, Phipps!"

"I agree," John nodded, taking one too. "The queen would probably like these with her tea."

He let John take off with them, the other butler taking off down the hall. Grey had stashed several cream puffs, popping them into his mouth with ease. Phipps turned back to the snow falling outside, opening his mouth gently. "You never gave me my scarf back," he caught the smaller man by surprise, a tiny smile forming. "Whatever happened to it?"

Grey averted his eyes carefully. "I don't know."

"So you still have it."

"Of course not!" Grey scoffed, obviously lying as his cheeks had a light pink hue on them. "Why would I keep it when I have plenty of scarves?"

He shook his head, knowing deep inside that the man still had his scarf. Looking out towards the snow again, he nodded. "I think we could build a snowman."

"What? Phipps, you just said we're too old for that!"

"If you really want to, then I'm not going to stop you.

Grey smirked, tossing him a pastry. "Well then let's get going! Maybe even our queen would like to go outside."

"If she does and she decided to make a snow man, you better not even think about destroying it."

* * *

 **Aw, those who play together get chicken pox together. Well, review!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note:** Enjoy the update! That's all I can say right now cause I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours. Woohhh I need more coffee..._

 _ **Warnings:** Eh, none_

 _ **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything_

* * *

Sometimes Phipps wasn't sure if Grey was an adult or a child in an adult's body.

On a warm June day, they were out an about on the London streets, doing errands for their queen. She complained of having a headache today and as her butlers, they made sure that her errands would be finished. Phipps had no problem with going out, but when Grey decided to follow, he knew it would bring nothing but trouble.

So, here he was, standing in the middle of an alley way as Grey started to swordfight with some street thugs.

The shorter man laughed as he stabbed one man in the shoulder, his sword making a sickening crunch as it impacted the bone. The thug screamed, holding his shoulder in pain as Grey removed the sword. The other thugs glanced warily, but Grey smiled victoriously. "Come on," he taunted, waving the sword in an intricate manner. "Who else wants to challenge me? Afraid to lose?"

The men, obviously seeing what had happened to five of their friends, didn't want to suffer the same fate. They ran off, helping their wounded friends and high tailed it out of the alley before Grey could pounce on them again. The white haired man sighed in disappointment. "That was no fun. Now I'm hungry."

"You just ate two hours ago," Phipps commented dryly. "You'll have to wait until we return to the palace."

Grey made a face. "You're no fun."

"We have a job to do; come on."

The shorter man gave a dramatic sigh, but complied with Phipps' command. He was a bit surprised that Grey didn't make some sort of protest, but had a feeling that the other Charles was up to something. A bored Grey was never someone he wished anyone would have to deal with. Unfortunately, most of Grey's bored moods happened when he was around. And they almost always happened in public.

The first stop was at the tailor's shop. Nina Hopkins, an extremely talented, yet overly ambitious woman for her time, had a new dress made specifically for the queen. No one else would have the dress, she had stated quite proudly when showing the queen the design. It would truly be one of a kind. And only fitting that it would belong to the queen. He stood next to the eccentric woman, looking with interest at her newest designs. As a fellow tailor, he could appreciate her work. Vice-versa, she appreciated his, always complimenting his uniform.

"You must tell me where you got that fabric," she enthuses, tugging at the material of his white shirt. "Is it cotton? Silk? Ooohhh, tell me what it is, Phipps!"

"It's a secret." He let out a tiny smirk, watching as she got all flustered.

"Oh, you're impossible!" she snapped, stomping away quite childishly. "One day you will tell me!"

 _CRASH!_

They both turned around, a bunch of mannequins falling over at an impossibly fast rate. He reacted immediately, catching one with his right hand and his left grasping onto the others tightly. He dashed forward, letting one rest against his back while catching the other with his foot. Nina grabbed the one laying on his foot, propping it up and lifting the other one from his back. "What on earth?" she grumbled, eyes narrowing towards where the first mannequin fell. "Who did that?"

Grey just stood there, barely feigning innocence. "Oops," he looked toward their annoyed faces. "My hand slipped."

Phipps just rolled his eyes, handing the seamstress her pay before taking the large parcel from the counter. Grey followed along, unusually silent as Nina glared daggers into his back. Maybe taking Grey shopping was a bad idea.

The next stop was the tea store, where many types of teas and coffees were sold. The whole store smelled of a blend of everything sold in the shop, invading his nose in a pleasant way. The nobles who owned this company were on holiday in Paris, so their employees were left to tend to the store. Now, what did he need to get again? Ah yes, chamomile. And maybe some sleep powder to use on Grey so he didn't wake him up at one in the morning asking for a snack. Actually, it was more like demanding for a snack.

"Are we done yet?" Grey materialized next to him, looking rather bored at the crates and packages of tea. "I'm hungry."

Lord, what else was new? "Almost," he replied. "We just need to go to a few more places so I can prepare tonight's dinner."

"Fine."

Leaving the tea store without too much trouble, they took a carriage to the other side of the town, getting some more things. While it was a seemingly normal day to most people, it was actually a holiday in the palace household. Today was John Brown's birthday, and it was the queen's idea to throw a little party. "Wouldn't a surprise party be nice?" she'd said to them while he went go get her favorite parasol. "He does so much for me. It would show how much we care."

So, besides getting stuff for the queen, (that was the cover story), they were mostly in town to get supplies. The balloons would come later on that evening, so all they really needed were streamers, party hats, and a new scabbard they both had pooled their money together to buy for their friend.

By the time they returned to the castle, the party had already been set up. Earlier that day, he made a cake so all he needed to do was decorate it. The Queen had a large smile on her face, ordering the other servants on where to put things. Grey disappeared the minute they arrived, taking the scabbard with him. Phipps had no idea on why he had taken it, but decided it wasn't worth questioning.

"Is it ready?" Victoria asked him, peering over his shoulder. Well, trying to peer over his shoulder; she was several inches shorter than him. "It looks good. You think John will like it?"

"I'm sure," he replied honestly. "I don't recall a single thing I've made that John disliked."

"Good."

She walked off, pride in her step as she looked over the decorations in place. Adding one more candle to the cake, he smiled in triumph. There was no other cake that could be as good as his. Not even Sebastian's.

"Phipps, is it done yet?"

He glanced over to Grey, who for some reason, had a lollipop hanging in his mouth. "Yes," he rolled his eyes a little. "But you can't have any."

"Please?"

"Grey, your birthday isn't for another six months."

Grey sighed. "But it looks so good!"

Before he could reply, a maid rushed into the kitchen. "He's on his way! We have to hide!" she clapped her hands in glee before scampering off. "Come on; you don't want to miss it!"

The lights in the entertainment room had been dimmed by one of the other servants, and everyone was hiding behind furniture. He raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't object and hid underneath one of the desks, only to meet Grey's eyes. "Hey!" the smaller man snapped. "This is my hiding spot! Get your own!"

"It's too late; scoot over."

Grey sighed irritably, but complied. It was a tight squeeze, making both of them uncomfortable. In the end, Phipps had both of Grey's feet in his face and the right side of Grey's face was smashed against the wall of the desk. The smaller man gave him the most nasties glare he could muster, but to Phipps, it looked like he was a giving a sort of grimace. Needless to say, he smirked.

 _Click._

The door opened and the servant who turned the lights off tuned them back on. "SURPRISE!" people shouted, rushing towards a rather stunned looking John, who drew out his sword in shock. He put it away when he realized what was happening; a faint blush on his cheeks. The Queen took his arm into hers, smiling widely. "Happy birthday, John."

The other butler's blush only darkened. "Thanks."

The party was a success, even if it was a small one. John seemed to like it, even though he was probably a little displeased at the thought of turning twenty-five. Still, when he blew out his candles, a smile could be seen.

Phipps then turned to Grey. "You can have your cake now."

"Yes!"

* * *

 **Well, review!**


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